One Reveals & One Conceals
by moonswirl
Summary: Sequel to The Darling Mermaid's Little Darling. While one discovers a secret, another tries desperately to keep theirs hidden when it's threatened.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: One Reveals & One Conceals  
SEQUEL TO: The Darling Mermaid's Little Darling  
AUTHOR: moonswirl  
RATING PG  
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, not a petal or a rotten strawberry. It all belongs to its creators and writers (come back! please?), I merely bask in the awesome and bow down to it.  
PAIRINGS/CHARACTERS Ned/Chuck; Everyone  
SUMMARY: While one discovers a secret, another tries desperately to keep theirs hidden when it's threatened.  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I started working on this story a few months ago, but I wanted to have enough of a head start that I could post chapters and not keep you guys waiting while I went on writing. Ideally I would have waited 'til it was done, but since the show starts again tonight (heee!) and I have a pretty good idea of how I'm gonna get to the end, I figured I'd start now. **Expect a chapter every Wednesday!** (The length of the chapters may be awkward, I didn't structure it with chapters, I make the splits afterward, so sometimes it's hard to find a good place to cut ;) (Okay now I'm babbling zips lips)  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I always love to hear from lovely people... that'd be you, if you're reading this... It's my first PD fic, can you tell I'm excited? :D

**CHAPTER 1**

"You go sit over there."

Emerson Cod had been on his last nerve already as he'd walked into the Pie Hole. What he found there was the one he had nicknamed 'Dead Girl' on task with serving the customers. He found out why as he went in search of the Pie Maker.

He found Ned knocking on a door… again, and again. Before a question could be formed, he discovered who was on the other side of the door.

"Olive, please. I can explain…"

"What did you do?" Emerson sighed. Ned turned to face him, looking to the door again.

"Nothing, I did nothing," he blurted out.

"Do not make me drag it out of you. Right now there should be rhubarb in my mouth and a fork in my hand – but there isn't," he deadpanned. "What did you do?"

"I couldn't stop it," he finally broke. Ned went on to explain what had occurred earlier that day.

The morning had started like any other. The one difference – which he remained unaware of – was that Olive had come in early. Ned went about business, starting on his pies. If there was any particular virtue to be bestowed upon those first pies, it was their ability to give way for memories of his mother.

These early morning tasks had come to be the Pie Maker's routine. And sometimes, as was the case here, routine required no other function of thought. Without such a consciousness, one might not notice they weren't alone, and go about their business.

Olive Snook had come into the Pie Hole early that morning with a purpose. In distraction the previous evening, she had left certain tasks unattended. Never one to be caught in error of this sort, she had taken it upon herself to rectify this situation without anyone to realize a thing was ever out of place.

It was only as she heard the sound of a door shutting that she realized someone else had been on the premises. Frozen on the spot, she considered her options. If Ned was in the kitchen as she suspected, he would no doubt see her get through the door. The only solution which appeared was to take a look in order to find the right moment and make her escape.

Quietly she approached, peering up into the kitchen. As suspected, there was Ned. It didn't appear that he knew Olive was there, which was a comfort. It took a moment for her to realize the oddity unfolding before her eyes.

She saw the motion, picking the strawberries with one hand, depositing them with another, but she didn't look to the fruit itself, not at first. As her eye spotted the next berry about to be grasped, she had to force herself not to reveal her presence in alerting Ned of the fact it appeared rotten, as he wasn't showing any sign of being aware of this. Having finally 'seen' the fruit, she realized several things in the span of three seconds.

In the first, she saw all the other berries on the picking side were rotten as well. In the second, she saw the ones deposited were as perfect as perfect could be, yet they appeared of the same selection as those of the rotten side. But in the third second she discovered why this was.

The Pie Maker picked up the rotten fruit and, before Olive's very eyes, the rotten strawberry gained the perfection of its brethren of the second selection. There was no time for her to swallow this image as it was repeated again, and again… Transcended, Olive continued to watch, until something caught her attention beyond Ned. In boxes by the window, a row of flowers suddenly bowed and wilted.

And then the Pie Maker turned. No one moved, no one could. It could not be told which of the two appeared more shocked. And then…

"Morning, Olive!" Olive and Ned turned, finding Chuck had arrived as well. Ned looked to Olive. Before he could say one word, Olive scurried off into the ladies' room. "Olive?" Chuck frowned as she called out to Olive, in vain. "What happened?" She turned to Ned. He didn't reply, standing frozen still. "Ned?" she tried again and got more silence. Drawn to shake him out of his daze but unable to do so without causing her own death, she removed her shoe and prodded him with it. "Hey?"

"Hey!" he jumped, rubbing at his arm.

"Didn't give me a choice. Now, what's wrong with Olive?" He let go of his arm with a sigh.

"She knows."

"Knows what?" Chuck asked of the minimal statement. He gave a significant look. She appeared to reply with a look of her own, and he nodded. "How did this happen?"

"I didn't know she was here…"

"Has she said anything?" He shook his head. Chuck considered this, approaching the door and pressing her ear to it. "Olive? It's me, Chuck. Are you alright?" No words came. Chuck pressed closer, and then pulled back. "Sounds like mumbling." They stood quietly for a moment.

"What do we do?"

"Give her time," Chuck lightly shrugged. "There isn't much else we CAN do… until she's ready." As silence drifted in, Ned and Chuck had the thought of the night Ned had told Chuck a painful secret on their mind.

"What if she crawls out the window and…"

"She won't," Chuck smirked, and then frowned. "I don't think she would…" she went on, turning to look back at the door.

So, as Chuck had suggested, they left Olive as she was, stewing over what would later be but the tip of an iceberg of titanic proportion. As they waited, business opened for another day at the Pie Hole. Chuck found herself slipping into the apron and the role of waitress while their owner remained in her mumbling barricade.

It soon came to their attention however that there was a flaw to the plan of leaving Olive be. As it was, she had monopolized the Pie Hole's only ladies' room, which the female customers were very vocal to bring up. And so the Pie Maker took up the attempt to draw out the frazzled Olive. It was at this moment that Emerson Cod happened on the scene. Faced with the prospect of this situation disrupting his day further than it already had been, he sent the Pie Maker aside and gave the door a knock.

"Olive," he started, frowning as he stood aware of his audience of hopping bathroom hopefuls. "Two options: You come out, or I go in." The hopefuls hoped for the former. After a moment, there was the click of a lock's release – more hops. The door was opened just a crack, a hand reaching through to wave Emerson in. There was a collective groan. Emerson turned to the women with a glare, pointing to the men's room. "It's clean. Go," he suggested or ordered, however one might perceive. Rather than ponder, the women scurried. Finally Emerson went into the ladies' room, shutting the door.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

There were several issues with the fact that Emerson now found himself in the ladies' room, but more so with what he found. If one might compare the men's and ladies' rooms of the Pie Hole, Emerson's prior assertion that the men's room was clean seemed almost insignificant when compared to this room. It was spotless, so much so that it shined. Seeing the state Olive was in, it was clear this was not how it had been when she'd entered.

Olive looked drained, and had inherited some of the dirt she'd removed. Despite the exhaustion, she appeared blank. She quietly picked up her shoes, which had been abandoned earlier, while Emerson looked about. "Damn…" he spoke under his breath. "Olive," he turned to her, about to talk, but Olive beat him to it.

"Cleaned some of the floor to sit, and then…" she spoke evenly. Emerson the P.I. emerged as he observed her standing there. He knew she was attempting not to let him see something in her face, and he had a very good idea as to what it was.

"Word of advice – bathroom's not the best place to lock down… especially in a restaurant." She remained silent, and Emerson was forced to go on pushing. "Whatever's brought you in here, it…" That got her talking.

"I didn't… It just…" she remained forcibly calm, moderate in her display of an emotion of any kind. "I'll be out in a minute," she nodded. Finally, it was clear to Emerson what was about to come, and as comfort to himself he promised it would be inevitable if he had any hope not to have this put the calm in an indefinite state of unrest… which would surely drive all sanity out of him.

"Olive… you ain't crazy. Whatever you saw, it didn't come out of your mind, it came through your eyes."

"You mean…" her voice showed that Emerson had indeed given a pull to the stopper she'd put to her emotive side, trying to keep hidden what she'd spent hours to try and explain, in the event that it was real… or not, for that matter.

"I mean you're not going to the crazy house…" he looked around. "… just yet. What'd you use, toilet paper and hand soap?" his words staggered out.

"Paper towels…" she corrected, looking away.

"Well will you come out now?" he tried to keep his tone down, highly aware of the fragility of the situation. Whether this concerned Olive's feelings or the well being of the 'secret' to his solvency… that was anyone's guess. She remained quiet. Emerson sighed. "I'll buy you pie…" This turned out to be the wrong subject to bring up, an error he realized at the sight of Olive's eyes reaching into a faraway gaze.

"Pie… the fruit. It's…"

He watched as the frenzy returned to her face, as her eyes found the paper and the soap dispenser, bidding for further stains available for her to scrub at as proxy to her thoughts. The private investigator considered how much easier his situation prior to his arrival now seemed. Finally, he exited the room, certain Olive would be too busy to think to lock the door again.

"Hey," he called out in a mutter to the passing Chuck. He avoided the glares of the former hoppers, vacated of pressing matters but not of their annoyance.

"Any luck?" Chuck approached him, looking around.

"If you'll appreciate that pep talks are not my thing…" he spoke shortly, with a discomfort which amused Chuck. Caught smirking, the impromptu-waitress willed a serious face and nodded to the door.

"I can give it a shot."

"Go right ahead," he sugar-coated his groan before walking away to seek out the awaited rhubarb pie. Meanwhile, Chuck grasped the door knob with a sigh.

She didn't know what to expect, more so didn't want to be responsible for causing Olive further trauma… or to make trouble for the Pie Maker.

The fact remained that Olive was her friend, though Chuck could see this had never been something the petite pie server would have imagined when "the interloper" had come on the scene. It was a friendship Chuck cherished, a friendship she didn't want to lose, and a friendship which meant more to her than Olive had yet to realize. Being her link back to her beloved Lily and Vivian, Olive was becoming family, almost a sister. It would seem that, this being the case – and it was – Chuck should be able to share everything with her. And yet THAT wasn't the case… not yet. This was finally her chance to attend to that problem.

As she entered the bathroom, she was met with the same surprise as their P.I. associate. Here she found Olive on the road to a second calm down effort. She showed herself receptive to Chuck's presence, the silence she kept until summoned to do otherwise. When Olive finally looked up at her, Chuck approached.

"Are you okay?" she started. Olive didn't speak. "You don't have to keep this to yourself. "At least…"

"You know, right?" Chuck nodded and Olive did as well. "On a scale of one to ten, how much worse is it going to get?" Chuck considered this before answering.

"It depends. You'll freak out at first, I think. But it's not bad, you'll see." Olive turned this over in her head. She sighed.

"Can we keep the shocks down for a while? Until I can deal with these?" Chuck smiled.

"Absolutely. But first we need to get you out of here." For the first time, Olive seemed to realize how long she had been hiding.

"OK," she nodded shortly.

While Chuck had been shepherding the jolted Olive out of her hiding place, the Pie Maker found himself the sole working employee of his own business. This did not bother him so much instead allowing him something else to devote his attention to rather than the situation he was now finding himself in. Emerson Cod meanwhile had found his efforts rewarded with a large helping of rhubarb pie, never to be recruited into the role of interim pie slinger.

When Olive made her appearance at last, guided by Chuck, Ned looked to her silently. She didn't look back, something he saw to be a conscious effort. The two women joined the private investigator's booth.

"Well…" Chuck started. Emerson frowned.

"Well what?"

"What's the case?" she prodded. Of all reactions, this question drew surprise from Emerson Cod.

"That's it? No mention of what happened back there?" Chuck shook her head.

"Why, did you want to…"

"Hell no… You girls are always yapping…"

"And you always complain, so I wasn't going to bother." This wasn't so much the truth. The truth would have been that she'd promised Olive time to absorb what she'd seen, and she intended to allow this time. "So, the case?" Frustrated though he was to be led along like this, the private investigator did his job.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

The facts were these. Barring the three days which had since passed, twenty-seven years, thirty-five weeks, four days, twenty hours and eighteen minutes had the misfortune to be the beholders of one Caroline Julius' life.

Daughter to a pair of hard-working psychologists, Caroline Julius had the social grace of Godzilla. A noted incident had been as, on the verge of fourteen years, Caroline Julius had taken to the tendencies of a pyromaniac. Heading off the possibility that their daughter's targets would inevitably grow to sizes irreparable – to their reputation just as well – Andrew and Julia Julius had her committed.

It would be thirteen years, thirty seven weeks, two days and eighteen hours before she would officially be deemed "cured." Handed freedom, Caroline Julius celebrated by seeking out a companion – a cat. She was soon made aware of the fact that she was allergic to her new friend, Whiskers.

Determined not to let go of the caramel furred friend, she returned to the doctors she knew, the expert medical team at the Meadow Hill facility. The events which followed remained a mystery. Needless to say, things didn't turn quite the way Caroline Julius had envisioned them. Andrew Julius and his wife, with newfound remorse, sought to see their daughter's killer found.

"And that's why they called me," Emerson Cod finished relating the story. "Head docs got a lot of money riding on this."

"And you want to be the one collecting," Chuck nodded.

"You're catching on," he gave a sour grin.

"So what's with the face?" Olive finally spoke up, making the two jump.

The face was what one would estimate as what could amount to fear and a fire fueled with rivalry in Emerson Cod. Its origin was this: Renouncing any involvement in the death of Caroline Julius, the Meadow Hill facility had hired its own investigator.

"So what's wrong with a little competition?" Chuck asked.

"The problem is who we're competing with," Emerson's voice bordered on the dangerous. Intrigued, Chuck and Olive leaned forward.

"Who is it?" Olive spoke in a hush.

"Sneaky little spook," Emerson began to mutter, making the girls pause in awe, "Latches on and doesn't let go, that's 'The Gold Way,'" he seemed to mimic the motto of a salesman of the year. "Bad one to have looking at you if you've got something to hide." There he threw a subtle glance to the Lonely Tourist. She reached to her arm as though overtaken with a sudden chill.

"What… What about Ned, a-and his…" Olive's finger stabbed the air as though reviving the fruit.

"What about it?" they looked up at the Pie Maker's approach. Emerson went to reply, then considered the area.

"Come here," he relocated Ned to the kitchen, automatically followed by Chuck and Olive. "We've got a shark on our tail."

"What are you…" the Pie Maker spoke innocence though the prickling on the back of his neck was very real.

"Got a case. Now believe me when I tell you… you don't want this one going haywire."

"W-why… What… What's different?" Ned wondered, on the verge of bursting if he did not get a clear answer and not more vague words in a timely fashion.

"Tell him about the spook," Olive volunteered.

Before Emerson could open his mouth, his eye caught on to something on the television screen, nestled among supplies. His mouth wavered as though it was attempting to achieve what had so far only resulted in silence. Instead, he pointed. The trio around him frowned, and Chuck stepped forward to turn the volume up.

Standing before tall men in lab coats, Constance Gold was nonetheless a commanding presence. The woman, in all her small stature, was something of a mix between a happy homemaker, a real estate agent, and a motivational speaker. Behind square frames rested determined eyes, and on that day her determination was guided in assuring the gathered journalists that the Meadow Hill facility had nothing to do with the death of former patient Caroline Julius.

"These people have dedicated their careers to helping the troubled, the lost… They are not capable of the harm the Julius family believes them to have done to their daughter Caroline. We are truly sorry for their loss, and we can only hope that this situation will end in harmony. And that is the Gold Way," she trailed out her trademark line like it was as fresh as new snow.

As the report returned to the anchorman, Emerson turned to the trio of observers, finding blank faces. "Well?" They looked to him, then to each other. Briskly, Ned spoke.

"I'm shaking…" his voice carried evenly. Emerson's eyes turned heavenward. His audience, however, was not done with their 'performance' as the women looked back to the pie maker.

"It's okay… I'd hold you if I could." She looked aside to… "Olive?"

"On it," she spoke as 'dramatically' as they had, patting Ned's back. "She's gone now."

"You people need a hobby…" Emerson muttered as he exited the kitchen.

"I better…" Ned shook his head toward the main Pie Hole. Chuck and Olive, for their part, moved aside. Now having chased the worries which had plagued them earlier, the interim waitress and the rightful owner of her apron now found themselves alone… with each other and their secrets.

"Can you make a delivery today?" Chuck asked.

Olive had forgotten. In a fleeting moment it had all disappeared – what she'd seen and, as she was realizing now, what'd she'd learned in recent days. In her simple request, Chuck brought it all back. Olive's hands reached for the dirty plates, hoping they would buy her the time to find a way out. As much as she had become attached to the still-grieving bird-lovers, she was highly aware of what she'd put them through, begging out a private and, now in the light of Charlotte's 'death', a painful story. So for that she intended to leave them be for a time. How was she to keep this promise without breaking another? She didn't want to lie to Chuck, but it was clear she had no choice – not until all secrets were no longer secrets… She would be made a liar for quite a while. So, she decided she had to let her believe she wasn't.

"Sure," she nodded as she turned back to her, giving a smile to cover what she could not show.

"Thanks," Chuck smiled. "It's in there," she pointed to the cooler. "Made it last night – peach." Once Chuck had left the kitchen, Olive's breath released like a popped balloon. She looked through the glass of the cooler's door, to the yellow box containing the pie meant for mermaids.

In the middle of his booth, meanwhile, Emerson Cod had returned to his half-finished slice of pie, finding in this instance that his appetite had failed him. He slid the plate away just as the pie's maker slid into the seat across from him. Neither man spoke for a moment as the previous attempt to discuss the case was mutually forgotten.

"Dead girl's sitting this one out," Emerson started.

"I think it's clear at this point that never works out." The investigator gave a look which firmly invited Ned to tell her nonetheless. "What am I going to do? Pull her away from the car?" he went on, making the grabbing motion and topping it off with a pinch of the air to indicate what would become of Chuck if he did.

"I got no problem taking care of that for you," he gave a smirk.

"No. Package deal. It's both of us or neither of us. Tell me, how many people have you made alive again?" he asked with a firmness that seemed to surprise them both. "Chuck is coming with us."

"Where are we going?" said the girl in question as she found herself leaning over the back of Emerson's seat. She smiled, Ned smiled… Emerson stabbed the innocent forgotten pie with his fork.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry for the delay, school's been a pain. But now, since the story's done and all, I'll be posting new chapters every TUESDAY and FRIDAY :)

----

Where they went was the morgue.

It would be late afternoon before they could be granted access to what remained of Caroline Julius after what had befell her. Stepping into the coroner's office, the trio found themselves in the company of surprise attendees. Sitting in his chair was naturally their familiar and mildly suspicious coroner.

Across from him sat a man and woman they would soon be informed to be father and mother to the girl presently in the morgue's drawer marked '1F'. The man, as blank faced as his wife, rose to greet the investigator. "Mr. Cod," he shook his hand.

"Afternoon, sir," Emerson greeted him in return, with his most distinguished voice, reserved for clients, and the occasional press interview. "Ma'am," he extended his nod to Mrs. Julius. "Allow me to introduce my… associates," he indicated Ned and Chuck, "Charles Mack and Liza Kent." Before the suddenly renamed duo could speak one word on the subject, Mr. Julius addressed them all.

"Thank you for coming." Ned was still blocked, where Chuck moved right into play.

"I'm truly sorry about your daughter," she shook the man's hand, solemn.

"Thank you, Miss Kent," he nodded.

"Please, call me Liza," she bowed her head lightly. As Mr. Julius excused himself and rejoined his wife, the trio huddled back.

"Who are Charles and Liza?" Ned whispered.

"For the time we're on this case, you are," Emerson insisted firmly.

"That Constance Gold really scares you, doesn't she," Chuck stared at the P.I.

"I ain't scared, and I would appreciate for you to understand something here. She may have looked all sugar and spice, but she's not 'everything nice'. You saw the public front. She's a tough nut, and if she gets the itch to look closer at either of you, she's going to scratch until the truth is out. I know neither of you wants that."

"Sorry," Chuck gave a nod.

"Mm…" Emerson frowned. "Do you think you can keep them occupied while we take care of things?" he nodded discreetly toward the door to the other room as he looked to Chuck.

"Alright," she replied, deciding it would be easier this way. As Ned followed Emerson, he turned when he heard her say "Later Charles." He smiled before following Emerson.

As they entered the room, Ned could already feel something was off, looking at the slab. He paused when he heard something and he turned to find Emerson was making sure the blinds were closed. Looking at him, Ned knew he hadn't been told the whole story just yet.

"Emerson?" he begged simply. There the investigator approached the pie maker with an inquisitive look. This did not inspire this uncertainty to fade. Still, he waited.

"Just out of curiosity… this thing of yours…" he started.

"What's wrong with this one?" Ned cut him off. Rather than speaking a word, Emerson approached the table, pulling back the sheet as he looked away. "Oh!" Ned jumped back two inches. "H-how'd… How'd this happen?"

It had not yet been one month since Caroline Julius was released from Meadow Hill when she returned with her feline problem. The doctors and other staff had been the closest thing to a family she could hope for over the years she had spent there. It only seemed natural for her to go to them when in need of some guidance.

But that day had not been her last. It was one more week before a gruesome discovery would be made, in the vacated room which had once been Caroline's home of thirteen years.

Now, three days later, the body lay on the metallic surface. What had caused the pie maker's jump was the fact that, though the rest of her appeared fairly intact, her head was very nearly severed from her body.

"Well, 'how'd this happen?' is precisely what we need to find out, along with 'who did the chopping?' Touch the girl and let's find out," Emerson instructed.

"Except for the fact she can't talk – her vocal cords are cut!" Ned pointed in the general direction of the gap, which he very much wanted to not look at directly.

"She can still blink, can't she? Once for no, twice for yes…" Emerson suggested.

"In one minute?"

"Will have to." Ned muttered something under his breath as he tried to figure out a way to make this work.

"Stay close in case she tries to move," he finally sighed as he approached the body and went forth to set his watch. Once satisfied that this would be as good as he could hope for, Ned pressed the button and, with a tap of his index, gave Caroline Julius her one more minute of life to finger the one who had taken away all her other minutes, and days, and years.

As the glow of life spread through her and dead eyes sprang open once more, the men braced themselves, uncertain of what would come.

Caroline Julius' minute started as she blinked a moment, disoriented, but more so she seemed to be aware of the spread in her neck. As her eyes fixed on Ned, he spoke up.

"Don't try to speak. You're not able to and we don't have much time." He turned his eyes toward Emerson for an instant. "Blink once for no, twice for yes. Do you understand?" Caroline blinked twice. "Do you understand where you are?" Two blinks. "Do you remember what happened?" One blink. "The last thing you remember, were you alone?" Two blinks. Ned looked to Emerson, finding in his eyes the same question. "Did you do this?" One firm blink. Ned looked to his watch – there wasn't much time left. "Do you have any idea who might have?" There was hesitation, then two consecutive blinks.

"She can write the name," Emerson looked at Ned, fishing out a pad from his pocket. But then…

"I'm sorry. No time," Ned spoke, touching Caroline Julius back into death.

Outside that room, "Liza" was doing all in her power to keep the coroner and the parents 'entertained' – and out of Emerson and "Charles'" way. This revealed itself not as difficult as she could have expected, as the doctors Julius seemed to warm up to her. She had them focused on those easier times. As few as they were, they were enough for the time needed.

When Ned and Emerson rejoined the coroner, they found their old friend alone. "Mr. and Mrs. Julius had to leave. Your 'Miss Kent' is escorting them out," he spoke in his regular tone.

"One of these days, that girl…" Emerson muttered as he tore out into the hall, Ned right behind him.

Meanwhile, Chuck was almost outside with Mr. and Mrs. Julius. "We'll keep you informed if anything new arises," she told them as they reached the door. Mr. Julius gave a nod as he shook her hand.

She didn't see them, not until she had put her feet past the door. As the parents stepped out, they were approached by a handful of men and women wielding microphones, one of them shadowed by a cameraman.

In an instant Chuck turned on her heel and regained the inside, pulling the door shut. Her heart beat a firm frenzy as she could only hope no one had seen her that might recognize her.

"Hey, Liza!" she heard Emerson speak in a not too cheerful voice. She turned to see him and Ned come toward her.

"Back door. Back door!" was all she said. Emerson looked beyond her, spotting through the glass what Chuck sought to escape.

"Move. Now," he directed the two.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

Having held down the fort at the Pie Hole as the others had gone, Olive had finally locked up, free to return home, in the company of her old friend, Digby.

As she walked in, though the box was safely in her refrigerator, Olive could sense it sitting ominously there. As far as Chuck knew, it had already been hand-delivered to its intended recipients while the morgue-bound trio waited to be allowed admittance. She wasn't sure what they meant to achieve there, but so long as she wasn't expected to explain herself, she wouldn't ask the same from them.

Having swapped her work clothes for something a little more comfortable, she headed into the kitchen, seeking to calm the rumbling in her stomach, born of hunger and a hefty amount of frustration. Pulling the door, it seemed as though the yellow box had taken to a bright and shining aura which begged for Olive Snook to treat her worries to a healthy serving of peach pie. Though part of her mind protested, another clung on to the fact that, one way or another, this pie had to disappear… and Olive was not one to waste a perfectly good pie.

Olive carried the box and a fork toward her couch, with Digby on her trail. After absently turning on her television, she sat down. Setting the box before her, she contemplated it for what seemed an eternity before finally sliding back the top. The scent filled her nose, tickling with temptation. No longer able to deny the rumbling, Olive dug her fork into the pie, retrieving a bite and bringing it to her mouth.

One bite became two, three… Soon, there was a significant hole in the pie, yet clearly not so much of a hole in her concerns. So, in went the fork once more. It had just found hold on a piece when her ear latched on to the sound coming from the television.

The news reporter was giving an update on the murder case of Caroline Julius. It went on to mention the involvement of two private investigators, one retained by the parents, the other by the hospital. The report then went on to mention how the Julius couple had their only child committed at the age of fourteen.

That was when the report cut to footage of Andrew and Julia Julius leaving the morgue, suddenly approached by a number of reporters. And that was when she saw it… saw her.

"Chuck?" the name burst from her lips as the fork slipped from her fingers. Digby barked at the television, having seen the girl as well.

It was only for a second, a flash of brown hair veiled over a green dress, but there was no mistake to her – that was her, that was Chuck.

Olive snapped the pie box shut.



Chuck had not told them she'd been outside. She told them she had remained unseen, inside the door. She didn't know why she'd done it. She understood the delicateness of her situation, more than anyone could imagine, more than anyone could – period. And perhaps she could ignore what happened and then this fear would go away. The fear… the fear that in one careless moment she'd triggered a chain of events that would rip her from the new life she'd been gifted with. She didn't like the isolation, but every time she felt it she considered the alternative. No more Ned, no more Olive, Digby… even Emerson… no more life.

After making their discreet exit they had dropped off Emerson, and Ned and Chuck had returned home. Though the event was over, behind them, Chuck fell in a distracted bit of silence. It didn't escape Ned. He did not force her out of it, simply waited for her… waited for her willingness to share what was on her mind. This went on for several hours, so much so that he was concerned he had assessed the situation wrong and she was mad at him for some reason. But then…

"Ned?"

"Yes?" he answered right away, sounding relieved. He looked to her. She still looked bothered.

"Do you ever wonder… what might happen? If it ever got out that I… that you…" she gestured toward him.

"It…" he repeated. She looked at him expectantly. "Sometimes. I try not to. I try not to, because… it might mean some things would happen. Mostly the things that might happen to you are the ones that worry me." That made her smile, then fade.

"What about you?" He stood.

"Why all this all of a sudden?" She looked like she would cry at that moment.

"I didn't tell you everything…"

Before she could go on the sound of a knock at the door quieted their voices. It was accompanied by a bark they knew to belong to Digby.

"Ned!" came Olive's voice from in the hall. "It's urgent, let me in!"

Ned hesitated a moment before leaving Chuck to go open the door. The moment he opened the door for her, Olive began to speak.

"Finally! Didn't you hear me?" she walked past him. He turned to watch her go, closing the door.

"Sorry, I…" Ned paused, rethinking. "What is it?" he asked just as Chuck came in from the bedroom. "Chuck! You were on the news!" she announced.

"What?" spoke Ned and Chuck at once, though their tones differed. While Ned had the volume of shock, Chuck was hushed by the realization of fear. She fell even quieter as her eyes found Ned's.

"It was just for a second or two, but it was there…" Olive spoke, eyes drifting back and forth between them. "Why do you guys… Am I missing something?"

"You said…" Ned started.

"I know…" Chuck followed. "I'm sorry." Silence set in again, broken a moment later by the ring of the telephone. It wasn't necessary for them to say it aloud – they knew who would be on the other end. Ned walked past the women to go pick up. Left alone, Chuck looked to Olive and she looked back. She couldn't keep the second half of Ned's secret from her anymore, so she had to hope she had recovered sufficiently from the earlier shock and subsequent revelation. "Olive…"

"What's going on?" the blonde asked, no doubt sensing the mood that had settled in following her announcement.

"Come here," Chuck sat on the couch. When Olive did, Chuck sighed, seeking words.

"Ned's… power, what he did to the fruit…" Olive tensed up for a moment. "Remember what I told you, that night he and I had that argument?"

"You said you'd died, and he'd…" The light appeared to come on in Olive's mind and her eyes grew wide as she turned to Chuck, slack-jawed. She gave a nod.

"If he touches me… ever again… I'll be going back in my coffin." This time, Olive didn't think it was a joke. That didn't prevent her from keeping her toes swimming in denial.

"But…" she started.

"Have you ever seen him touch Digby?" Chuck didn't slow, knowing the sooner it was all out, the sooner Olive would be able to absorb it. She watched as the waitress processed this question and came empty, leading her to understand…

"He's… too?"

"About twenty years," Chuck nodded. The dog wagged his tail. There was a long moment of silence, as Olive took it all in. Eventually, Digby went toward her, laying his head on her lap. At that, she slowly came to smile, petting the cuddly canine.

"I just thought you'd faked your death…"

"I know," Chuck nodded.

"But you did…" there was a trembling in Olive's voice that swallowed the fourth word as she looked to Chuck, who quietly gave another nod.

As Chuck had worked to inform Olive, Ned worked to get a word in as he got an earful from Emerson. As the Pie Maker would discover, Emerson's tirade was a direct result of a call he'd received.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

While Olive Snook was making good use of her fork in her attack on the peach pie, its intended recipients were doing one thing in common – mainly, watching the news.

Lily Charles' bedroom isolation had come to happen in more and more times since having let out her deeply hidden secrets. There had been several instances for her to miss her sweet Charlotte, and each one had hurt as much if not more than the one before. They did not stack up, not one of them, when held up against this one. And she knew why.

She'd had many opportunities to regret not her actions but her silence. It was too fit a punishment for her chance to come clean to be wrenched from her.

So there she had been, sitting in her bedroom, eye only barely focused on her television set.

As had been the case with Olive, the flash – however brief – had triggered recognition in Lily's mind. Though she was highly aware of previous deceptions from her mind in regards to seeing her departed daughter-slash-niece, it did not deter her from giving belief a shot.

"Vivian!" the call dislodged the silence which had choked her a moment earlier.

Vivian Charles, in this time, had been down in the living room, staring out the window at the darkening skies. At her sister's call, she startled, her feet momentarily forgetting to carry her. As she regained balance she started for the stairs, climbing up to her sister's room. As she barged in she stood still, silent save for some laboring of breath.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she finally spoke.

"Charlotte," Lily pointed to the screen with determination that brought concern in the mind of Vivian Charles, a concern she didn't particularly care for.

Vivian was unaware of how her sister's previous wishful hallucination affected her. Had she known, perhaps her concern would have been stronger. In that instant though it was still enough for Vivian, unable to shake Lily's insistence, to seek help in the only place she believed she might get it, in this situation.

She called Emerson Cod, the investigator.

Sitting to attempt and save what was left of this day from being any more of a thorn in his side by lengthening his progress on a dark brown pair of knitted slippers, he was content. He had gone so far as to allow himself to believe this day would end well.

When the phone rang, his needle slipped and he stopped short. Before answering he already knew he'd thought too soon. He thought for a moment he could ignore it and remain on his slippers. If he did that, however, it would only bring him more difficulties, just one day later.

When he answered and was presented with a frantic woman's voice, he took a moment to put a face to the voice. Once he did, needles and yarn were slammed to his desk and forgotten. Ever since the resurrected Charlotte Charles had come into his life he had awaited as inevitability for him the moment this would come back to bite him in the ass – something he made quick work to let the Pie Maker know.

"Now she wants me to go down there and tell her sister that I saw her DEAD niece and that, upon burial, her DEAD niece was in that big white coffin. There's just one problem with that though – her niece ain't so dead ANYMORE!"

"I…" Ned tried to speak in Chuck's defense and was promptly cut off.

"I am going to go and try to fix this in the morning. In the meantime I don't care if you have to coat yourself with three layers of plastic; you keep her in your place and out of your shop. Understand?"

"I… Yeah…" he finally sighed before slowly hanging up.



Chuck had not resisted when Ned told her she'd have to remain in the apartment the next day. Once Olive had gone neither of them was in the mood to talk further in regards to what had happened. So they had simply gone to bed, with the hope that the coming day would not be as bad as they feared.

If the timid sunshine that poured into the room the next morning was any indication, perhaps Ned was better off staying in as well.

But he had a business to attend to. So off he went to the Pie Hole. When he arrived he found Emerson sitting on the bench outside. The investigator did not say a word. As the pie maker opened the door, Emerson quietly stood and followed inside and made his way to sit in a booth. At this point his actions ceased, returning him to the unspeaking and unmoving stance he'd kept moments before on the bench.

Sensing the investigator was not yet willing to speak, Ned was forced to leave him be and go about his business. He went along, making his pies. Every so often he would peer into the dining room. If he couldn't see him blink every so often, Ned might have believed he had turned to stone.

However before long the pie maker had run out of things to do. So finally his impatience could no longer be sustained and he took steps to approach his blank non-client.

"Alright, I get it! You're mad! Don't have to be so dramatic about it!" he spoke in a burst. This did not move the silent man. What did bring him back to motion, of all things, was Olive's arrival. When he saw her coming up from outside, he stood and awaited her entrance.

"Morning, fell…" she started before Emerson interjected.

"I need you to come with me."

"What?" Ned burst in shock.

"Me?" Olive spoke in a mix of confusion and giddiness. Finally grasping the odd request she shifted closer to the shock Ned displayed. "Why me?" Then, "Where would we go?"

"To see Lily and Vivian Charles," Emerson revealed. At this, Olive blanched.

"I-I don't know that it's such a good idea," she finally managed.

"Emerson?" Ned spoke up. "I get this is a problem…"

"Be glad I don't answer that," Emerson spoke evenly before rounding on Olive. "Why not? I thought you were all buddy with the shut-ins." Caught under the glare of the P.I., Olive could not think of anything to say but…

"I am, I guess," she nodded. "I'll go."

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

a/n: Sorry it's late, finals have been a pain... so there'll be the usual friday chapter tomorrow, just the same :)

* * *

**CHAPTER 7**

So the investigator and the waitress departed, leaving the pie maker to his own devices and alone to man his shop. Before long he was open for business, tables dotted with patrons. Though this should not have left him all that destabilized, there were factors – Chuck, secrets – which could only shake his resolve. This was brought to his attention as one customer called him back.

"Excuse me, that's not mine," he called to Ned as he'd turned away. He paused though, turning back to the table and looking to the plate, gushing pears. "Kiwi," the man explained.

"I'm sorry," Ned picked up the plate.

"Understaffed?" the man spoke, not angered in the least, which allowed the stress in Ned to leave him to a degree for that time.

"Today, yes," he nodded. "I'll get your pie."

Hitting himself on the inside, Ned went to get the new slice. Preoccupied once again as he was, he did not see how the man seeking that slice followed him with his eyes. And following suit, the man sat, unaware that his observations hadn't gone unnoticed by a woman sitting at the other end of the room. Where the man was rather laid back, the woman had a clear and jagged edge to her.

This dance for three continued as the man was given the pie he'd called for. He ate, quietly, paid his bill despite Ned's offer to take that himself for the mistake, and made his exit. Leaving money on the table, the woman with the edge rose as well, following him out seconds later. This happened entirely unbeknownst to the pie maker.

"Do you always show so much interest to wait staff?" the woman asked the man as he was unlocking the door to his car. He paused, turning to face her after a moment. He drew his eyes over her, assessing quietly.

"Don't believe it's against the law…" he spoke smoothly. "Which I'm sure you know… officer?" he queried. She didn't answer. "Detective?" he amended. Her response was minimal… but sufficient. "Detective…" he trailed, begging on a name.

"Greta Cole," she volunteered freely. "You did well. I feel I should return the favor. Reporter?"

"Give the lady a prize. Edmund Eldridge," he introduced himself. Both stood quiet for a moment, waiting on the other to budge. The detective pitched first.

"What is your interest in Ned…" she started, but was interrupted.

"And yours? Unless he's an acquaintance of yours, you wouldn't know his name unless you had… something on him… or someone close to him?" Greta Cole smirked.

"And you say I get the prize." He shrugged playfully. "Perhaps you and I can do business…"



The ride into Coeur d'Coeurs had not been one either Emerson Cod or Olive Snook looked forward to… for several reasons. This only became more and more evident as they neared their destination. What might have involved Olive talking along while Emerson counted down the miles was instead a ride whose soundtrack featured only sounds of the car and the road.

Despite his unwillingness to actually engage the short blonde in any shape or form of conversation on the subject, he hadn't been unaware. Whatever was causing her issue with this visit, he didn't want to know what it was and end up being dragged into more melodrama.

As the car came to a halt, the investigator spoke up. "Don't talk unless you have to. If you do talk, just… watch your words."

"Okay," Olive nodded, nervously looking up at the house. Emerson sighed, getting out of the car.

The two of them were greeted by Vivian Charles. Olive noticed she had a look on her face not unlike the one she'd given on the day Olive had come and been told the story of Lily and Charlotte.

"Lily, we have visitors," Vivian announced, ushering the two into the living room.

Sitting quietly on the couch, Lily Charles turned her head to grasp the two of them into her sight. Olive looked positively terrified. Save for one instance, the world she inhabited with Ned, Chuck, Emerson… it was separate from the time she spent with the mermaids, despite their tie to the pie maker's 'roommate'. More than that, in each case she would be required to keep things about the other side a secret. Having both sides in one place was likely to make her head explode. As far as Lily knew, her concerns were solely related to what she'd told her.

Lily turned her attention on Emerson Cod. She knew why he was there, knew Vivian had called him. That did not mean she was in any way willing to believe what he would tell her, not now. She'd been given a blessed lifeline to hope, and if their aim was to take it from her, by heavens, they would have to pry it out of cold, dead hands.

"Miss Charles," the investigator gave the first volley in the form of a greeting and a nod, sitting across from her. She replied through silence. "Your sister requested my presence in regards to your niece, Charlotte." At this, Lily looked to Olive, who remained fearful and on her feet. "She indicated to me you believed you saw her? On the news?" Still Lily went on holding her hope cradled in her mind and did not speak. Empowered with it, she could take anything they threw at her. "I understand…" the unfazed P.I. started in his next throw. The words were swiftly swung back to him.

"You understand?"

The question was covered in a shock in the form of disbelieving laughter. The sound acted like a freezing agent on the three facing the one-eyed redhead. Not one could respond, not one had power over her in that moment. This, she knew. She stood on her two feet, daring any of them to take her and hope on.

"You understand nothing."

What came to Emerson Cod was not granted through his many powers of investigation. Looking upon the determined Lily, it was not Emerson the P.I. who realized the truth – it was Emerson the father… father ripped from his child. Though he had a clear stance in how he handled his business, this was something that forced him to pause. His response was brought in a need to protect, for once, not his own interest but the basic need to protect the people involved.

So, he launched.

"Miss Charles, I may not 'understand' as far as you believe, but now YOU have to understand something – Charlotte is gone. She was buried. As I have expressed before I am sorry for the loss you've suffered. It has been months now, and as hard as it may be you need to try and put Charlotte to rest, and move on." Vivian and Olive still following the match in silence, gazes moving to one player then the other, the room grew quiet again as Lily took this in. After a moment… she laughed, once again bringing stillness.

"Are you done?" she spoke up. Challenged, Emerson Cod reemerged from inside the understanding shell.

"Well maybe I ain't…" he muttered, stepping up. A systematic rage found its way into his heart, perhaps installed by envy for the hope she wore over her face, her stance. "You're lucky I don't bill you for this. I do happen to have a business, see, and having to deal with your illusions is not part of my given job description."

"Oh, but of course, how foolish of me not to whip out my wallet at the drop of a hat! I didn't ask you here today! Get out!" The fury in Lily was powerful in a silent way on any given day – not that day. Her eyes burst with fire and proven determination. Her adversary, not without his own flame, didn't show any burns.

"With pleasure," he growled, turning. He paused for a split second before Vivian. "Good day," he gave before carrying out his stomp. The room was barely beginning to settle, then… "Olive!" his voice resonated, making the short blond quiver into a startled jump. She tried to say a word to the sisters, but only ever managed a squeak before scurrying off after the hurried Emerson.

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

The ground between Emerson Cod and his vehicle out of this place could not disappear fast enough as he made his way toward the car. When he finally reached its door, he looked up. Olive stood, somehow seeking to make herself smaller and unseen. The investigator looked down again to pull the door open, but then slammed it shut again, looking back to the waitress.

She knew. She knew what he himself had come to realize as he'd looked into the eyes of Lily Charles. He was certain she did, and from that he understood her hesitation over the visit. Though this would not make the blonde rise so much in his mind for him to call her a friend, his respect for her found a boost in her dealings with this secret. As such, he didn't bring it up.

Finally, he opened the door and sat behind the wheel. A moment later he was joined by Olive, still swimming in nervousness. She did not dare speak and risk provoking more screaming from him. Still, not all parts of her appeared on board with this idea, for after an instant…

"Not to critique your technique, but do you think it's wise to make her mad?" When he looked to her, Olive almost flinched.

"Do you know why I brought you along?" The question was not as expected, and as such she remained quiet, wordless. "As much as I'd wish otherwise, you're a factor in this… business I have with Ned."

"Him giving life…" she filled in.

"Yes…" Emerson replied after a moment. "Before SHE came into the picture, everything was simple… controlled."

"Not anymore," Olive nodded, feeling suddenly a little more uncomfortable.

"That's right. So now the only way to get it back is to keep all the players good and checked." He paused again here, starting the car. "And he pissed me off…" he muttered as they drove off.

The ride back would be just as quiet.

Inside the home of the Darling Mermaid Darlings, the mood was just as heavy. Lily had not moved off from the spot she had dominated in her face-off with Emerson Cod. Still she could sense her sister's presence, also unmoved.

Vivian wished to speak, to see that her actions had not made more damage than the good she'd sought. Though the dosed pies courtesy of her not-so-dead niece and her carrier had worked some improvement in her, it did not act to cure each of her insecurities, buried deep. She would find that her intentions and the results of her actions were very hard if not impossible to align. Still, she tried.

"Are you angry?" she wished her voice didn't sound so shaky. She hoped she might know her sister enough to know how to deal with this situation. But then Lily had a way to be so unpredictable she could only risk bumping into walls, seeking the proper route to lead her where she wanted to be.

"Not angry…" Lily closed her eye, pressing at it with a sigh. Silence came again, as Vivian took this in with quiet relief.

"What are you then?"

Lily would not say. Lily could not say. All of her attention was dedicated in sealing the crack crawling up the walls of her precious hope.



Miles away, Charlotte Charles was tending to wounded hope as well. For her part, the injured party was the wonder of her new life. Sitting within the safety of Ned's apartment, she felt the very thing she had dreaded – isolation, looking out at the world but kept from it.

The worst thing for her to fear was that it would be her own undoing.

To some relief, her 'isolation' was not one she spent on her own – she still had Digby. Soon, Ned would join her for lunch. They still had not talked all that much since heading into the morgue the day before. So much had happened since then… So much had changed.

It seemed as though her joy had only served to shelter the truth, the problems that remained joined to her situation. She wanted very much so to get back to the place where she'd been, back to the wonderland where she made pies and honey and helped Ned and Emerson… Now she feared her yearnings, coupled with isolation, would only serve to bring more trouble.



Sitting inside the neighboring taffy emporium, scheming was at play. The players in this instance were the detective with the edge and the journalist with a love for kiwi pie. In fact, Edmund Eldridge had quite the sweet tooth, so much so that he was finding himself distracted in a debilitating manner by all the colorful and sugary sweets scattered throughout the shop. He had not paid attention to Greta Cole in the least since he'd been served. The detective sat like a single dark cloud in the bluest of skies. Unable to bear the humming of her new associate any longer, she took hold of his hand, stopping it from achieving its intended sweetness.

"Could you focus?" she tried to keep her voice down. If surrounding customers were any indication, her success was minimal. Edmund frowned, reaching with his free hand to release himself before consuming the item he'd sought.

"Anyone ever tell you about your attitude?"

"Several times," she groaned.

"It's no good for you," he persisted, taking a bite.

"Enough," she insisted. After a pause, he sat up, indicating he was giving his undivided attention.

"How do you suggest we proceed?" At this moment, Greta looked up, guided by the jingle of bells at the door. She nodded her head toward it, making Edmund look back.

"With her."

Standing small and glorious as always, Constance Gold scanned the room, seeking whoever had requested a meeting with her.

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry for the delay! 1st chapter update today out of 3!

**CHAPTER 9**

Once relieved by Olive's return from Coeur d'Coeurs, the Pie Maker made his way up to the elevator toward his apartment. The doors parted, ushering a scent he immediately recognized as a Chuck-made pie. His steps carried him along the path of that sweet odor, as though its power carried him. He did not know how to deal with these more demanding periods. But with pear and gruyere came a shot of much needed optimism.

Stepping into the apartment, he was greeted with an approach from Digby. The dog's halt before him would of course remind him of their limitations. But the years had taught him not to worry himself over the matter.

Chuck's reminder had not reached this level.

When he saw the brunette come from the kitchen, he felt himself weaken just as he had the day he'd pulled her coffin open. Chuck had a look making clear she shared the need to bypass any and all problems they might have had, if only one instant.

"How's business?" she asked, smiling.

"Booming," he gave a nod, approaching the table. "You've been busy too," he observed the spread of the meal before him. "I didn't realize I had this much," he sat.

"You didn't. Idle hands…" she waved her fingers about. "You know the market delivers." His head raised barely a quarter of an inch before she carried on. "They left it outside, I slid the money under the door." The quarter inch retracted.

"Looks great," he gave a smile, which chorused with the grumbling of his stomach. "Really great."

"Thanks," she laughed and sat across from him. For a moment the pair went about, eating quietly. When silence became not a refuge but a burden, they looked up. Eyes met.

"Emerson went to see your aunts this morning… with Olive." As was to be expected, Chuck reacted in a confused glance.

"How'd…" she started.

"Olive didn't say."

"She's back?"

"She WON'T say. I asked, and she ignored me. I talk business, then she responds. The moment I don't, she clams up and starts telling me about apples."

"Do you think it has to do with…" she poked the air. Ned shrugged, breathed out as he looked to her.

The air had grown lighter. It had lost the weight pressed down by the sheer power of so many changes, so many revelations… so many worries at once. If was lifted by the simple act of a release of speech. As Ned and Chuck looked to one another, there was yearning. In a sudden thought, Chuck reached for the oven mitt at her side and slipped her hand inside. The enlarged paw was presented to the Pie Maker, who took it very thankfully.



Once the Pie Maker had left the apartment, the solitary Chuck found herself not only alone – once again – but also with something of a dilemma. As she heard from the counsel of both angel and devil perched not on her shoulders but in her mind and her heart respectively, the two somehow met and stroke a compromise.

Armed with her oft required disguise, she made her way down to enter the Pie Hole through the back door. She found the kitchen luckily empty, granting her the chance to find a place to hide. Her options were limited, and the choice came down to backing into a corner, out of sight. The devil in her heart had needed for her to speak with Olive right away about her aunts, though the angel in her mind had begged for her to wait. The angel was satiated by the knowledge that Ned wouldn't be around to catch her in the act.

By the sounds pouring in from beyond the wall which gave her shelter, Chuck expected to have only a short opportunity to catch the waitress with a moment to talk comfortably. For a moment, she considered regaining the apartment up above.

The thoughts were still forming in her mind as Olive skittered into the kitchen, arms loaded with plates. In a forgetful moment, Chuck instinctively called out the blonde's name. Olive's hands were caught squarely by the startling of the call. A moment later there was a squeal, followed by the loud crash of broken china. Chuck jumped but did not move from her post. Olive turned, taking in both the hiding brunette and the curious onlookers beyond the counter. Regaining her countenance, Olive gave an awkward smile, making a motion as though to say 'Clumsy me!' Once she was forgotten by the patrons, she let out a breath and dashed forward to approach Chuck.

"What are you doing here?"

"You saw my aunts today," was her defense. Olive had strongly expected this response, perhaps allowing her the presence of mind not to show herself startled or nervous at all.

"He told them you were dead. And then he and Lily yelled at each other and we left." Chuck considered this, leaving Olive to speak once more. "They'll be fine."

"I don't know about that…" Chuck's voice trailed.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: 2nd of 3 updates today...

**CHAPTER 10**

The day carried on without any further incidents. Pies were made and sold, Chuck remained hidden, and Ned and Emerson went on, separated and stalled by the hand of the incident at the morgue and ensuing secrets.

But then a new day rose, a new day shining with a blinding shade of optimism and determination. All parties having chased away prior mood swings, the four gathered in the temporary setting of Ned's apartment. The Pie Hole would have to remain off limits so long as the issue with Chuck was not resolved.

In the tradition of very few of their previous meetings, it was Emerson Cod who had called for all of them to congregate. He was last to arrive, being the sole participant not to live in or by their location. As he stepped through the door, there was 'business' in his eyes.

"The two of you are heading into Coeur d'Coeurs today," he indicated Ned and Olive. The two shared a brief look while, at their side, Chuck sat quietly. The longer this matter went on, the more invisible she felt – invisible and powerless.

"What about the Pie Hole?" Ned protested.

"Unlike your pie holes, it'll just have to keep shut." At this point, Olive raised her hand in weak protest to further agitating the already volatile Lily. It was promptly rebuked by the investigator. "We need damage control after yesterday's showing."

"You should apologize," Olive did her share of agitation right there, but in this she presented the fortitude and firmness she'd been finding shaken in previous days.

"As interesting as that sounds, I do have business to attend to," Emerson responded promptly.

Once all was settled, the last to arrive was the first to depart. Knowing there was a long drive ahead of them, Olive and the Pie Maker were quick to follow suit. Before this, Ned looked to the girl he called Chuck. He could see the brightness in her eyes had been dulled by her 'imprisonment' within the walls of the apartment. He would take the drive, take it and any other tasks that would be required of him so long as it all worked toward granting her the sparkle back.



Having departed the apartment, Emerson Cod returned to his office. Driving up, he found a car had been given liberty to take the area usually reserved for his own. Gruntingly parking his car behind the compact vehicle, the investigator headed up into the building.

He saw the legs first, crossed one over the other with poise and forming a stand for hands laid upon them. Following the trail up to a face, he found it to belong to none other than Constance Gold.

They had only rarely met face to face. What he knew of her was gathered from other sources. Born to Filipino parents, once married and once divorced from one Timothy Gold. From him she got a name, a hefty amount of money, and a slogan she would also take to the bank. Her reputation preceded her from a mile away at the least.

Constance Gold stood when she saw her rival, taking on a face only slightly differing from the one she gave the public. The 'happy homemaker,' here, was benched in favor of one perhaps looking for greener pastures, if her approach was any indication.

"Emerson Cod…" she greeted the man who towered over her. "Real shame we're on opposing sides here," she craned her neck to look up at him, tilting her glasses to follow her gaze. Emerson, presented with the decisively swooned tiger, stepped back.

"That's your opinion." Constance hummed with an undeterred nod. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh… many things," she smiled. After a moment, once hormones were checked, she gave another nod. "Mr. and Mrs. Julius… Quite a pair, locking up their little girl that way…" she nodded mostly for her own benefit. Still, in his capacity as an investigator, Emerson Cod understood something that gave him both concern and fury, something he grasped as an informed mechanism to push his buttons.

"Caroline Julius was a troubled girl," he pressed.

"That she was. She was also just a child. The facility counseled the parents to seek somewhere more secure for her sake, but they refused. They looked after the girl, protected her." Determined not to be fazed by the sob story techniques, the investigator forged on.

"Is there an actual purpose to this?"

"Professional courtesy," she smiled. "I always believe in that, at the very least," she pressed a dramatic hand to her heart.

"Courtesy extended. Goodbye," he entered his office and shut the door.



Olive Snook was finding herself sitting through a silent drive into Coeur d'Coeurs for the second time in just as many days. This time, the silence was created from the inability for the pair to get past this secret she'd been told, this universe she was allowed into.

Perched on her knees sat a box, hastily filled with a selection of cup pies before the journey had begun. Olive hoped the small delights, foreign to the mermaids, would distract them enough to ease tension she wished not face.

The Pie Maker wished this situation did not exist as much as Olive had. When Olive had requested for them to gather a few of the single-served pies and he'd seen the disappointed customers trailing away from the closed Pie Hole, he'd been made yet more aware of this fact. He'd lied, told them a mixed delivery was to blame, told the old woman who cherished peach and the man he'd wrongly served one day prior that they should be open later in the day. He'd watched the man walk away while Olive had found her offering.

Upon arriving within the familiar neighborhood, the street across which began the long story of Ned and Chuck, it occurred to those inside the vehicle just how much of their lives today was influenced by events which had come to pass along this pavement, these houses… twenty years ago and yet so near.

Olive was seeing the neighboring homes for the first time as having been inhabited by young Ned and young Chuck. This would be where it had all begun. In that instant, she saw a void in her knowledge, one she had not considered before that moment.

Stopping before the gated home, nerves took hold of them both. They shared a look, begging silently not to have to be the one to have to poke the dormant volcano. In a battle of the wills, they came to a draw when a knock at the window startled them. Heads shot around to find the 'knocker' to be Vivian Charles.

Being aware of the conditions which afflicted the sisters, one was never certain what they would get as they came face to face with them. Much like a toy you would slowly wind up to a burst, no matter how many times one would see it burst, they still jumped. However on this day, Vivian Charles came already burst, flowing in apprehension, protection, caution…

This very state she had come to be in would prove itself useful in most surprising and life-altering ways. But this would come to pass later…

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: 3rd and last update for today! Now I'm up to date :D

**CHAPTER 11**

Olive and the Pie Maker, discovered, exited the car with the plastic partition and approached Vivian. She did not speak… neither did her visitors. Eventually, Vivian turned on her heel and started for the house. Uncertain whether they were to follow, Ned and Olive waited. Vivian paused at the gate when she sensed she was not followed. The two scurried to join her just as she turned. Still, she did not break her silent escort.

Inside, Ned and Olive soon saw what was causing Vivian's quiet hesitation. Lily's efforts to maintain her grasp on the shining beam that was her hope had been given a blow in the form of the argument with the private investigator. Now each new visit appeared like an attempt to pry one by one her willful fingers. This might have indicated a determination which would rival the most volatile of Lily Charles' moods. But that was not the woman they found. The attack on her hope had left Lily to look almost fragile. It was a mesmerizing sight, shocking and frightening.

More so, this made Ned and Olive uneasy. Caring as they did for the Charles women – all three of them – it would have seemed so simple to hand Lily a mighty grip on her hope by revealing Chuck's secret – yet they couldn't. Olive wondered if the Pie Maker would still have that strength if he knew the true nature of Lily's ties to Chuck.

When Lily became aware of the visitors, she made an effort to bring her shield forth.

"Don't you people have jobs?" she sighed.

"We do. But I thought I should come by, after what happened with Emerson…" The shield was bolstered by this, and Lily looked up. Ned tendered a small retreat. Here, Olive stepped in.

"I brought pie. Well, cup pies. I think you'll like them," she kept her hands from shaking as she opened the box. The aroma wafting up reached the sisters as a momentary release from their present issues. Vivian gathered plates and forks. The small pies were distributed, though Ned would not touch his. The tension in the air fell for this time as the women concentrated toward their plates. It took just one bite for the taste in the crust to be identified.

"Honey…" Lily spoke, trying not to sigh.

"Yeah…" Olive nodded to herself. For an instant, she regretted her initiative. Not wanting to allow the conversation to take a dangerous path, Ned started on his previous efforts.

"I just wanted to make sure to express how it wasn't our intention for an argument to…"

"You saw her. Right?" Lily cut in.

"S-sorry?" Ned felt a prickle dashing along his spine.

"Charlotte." The Pie Maker felt his throat threaten to shut before Lily went on. "At the funeral home. You…"

"Yes," he used his newly regained voice to give this half truth. "I saw her." Lily scrutinized him with her impaired gaze. Ned could feel his eye doing a frenzied tap dance despite his attempts to stop it. Judging from the looks it got him, he likely gave the appearance of having a stroke.

"You saw her," Lily repeated, finally. The response seemed to indicate she believed him, but still there was a hint of doubt they could unmistakably hear under her steady tone. Ned gave a nod.

"Excuse us," he drew Olive aside, forcing her to quickly put her plate down. In private, he whispered. "I need to get back, but I'm not sure we should…"

"I'll stay," Olive cut in.

So, Ned bid the sisters goodbye and went on his way. Finding they remained 'with guest,' the sisters looked to Olive, who smiled shyly. She realized in that moment that volunteering to stay behind had placed her in more of an awkward position than she cared for.

"I'm going upstairs," Lily grumbled as she moved away and took to the stairs. Vivian followed.

Alone in the living room, Olive took a breath to release the one she'd been holding in since they had set foot in the house. She wondered how it was she'd so suddenly found herself in this confusing situation. Just a few months ago, her life was simple. Now her life was… secrets and more secrets.

Momentarily relieved from her need to mind herself, Olive Snook allowed herself a trip down Charles memory lane. She had been in this house, this room, so many times now, yet she found she had yet to truly take a good look around. Left to her own devices, she surrendered to a moment of utter curiosity and nosiness.

What she found, beyond the varied bird cages, were a number of framed photographs. She could identify the subjects of these snapshots from her last foray into the photographic history of this family.

The shots framed and laid on display showed the distinction of being just as candid, and yet one could truly see why these had been selected over others as being worthy of continued display. One particular image which caught the eye of the blonde snoop was one of young Chuck, perched royally on the very chair Olive herself had occupied on occasions, grinning proudly as she gave a squeeze to a stuffed and cuddly-looking white sheep.

"Pecorino…" she mumbled in remembrance.

She recalled a conversation she'd had with the sheep's now grown and "deceased" owner, where she'd learned how it had been gifted to her on her seventh birthday by her father, and named after a cheese she had come to love simply for the way its name rolled off the tongue. Though at this time she had not yet been under the guardianship of her aunts, they had by no means kept her uneducated on the subject of the world of cheese.

Olive kept on observing the picture, still unaccustomed to the way every side of her world went on colliding.

The sound of a throat being cleared made her snap back around, back on alert. Once again, she found herself in the silent presence of Vivian Charles.

"Is Lily…" Olive started, refusing to be drawn into another awkward period. She had convinced Ned to count on her to keep the sisters under momentary watch, and she would not let him down.

"It's not the first time," Vivian simply started. "It passes." The thought of these "passes" killed Olive's efforts in resisting the silence. Instead, it shook her resolve in keeping her post and, finally…

"So… she'll be alright?" she asked slowly, her voice colored with the argument in her mind. Vivian's nod was putting weight to her conviction she could and should leave.

And yet she stayed. When she would finally leave, a few hours later, it would be from having assessed that there was no crisis to avert in that instant.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Alright, finally back on track with my posting schedule!

**CHAPTER 12**

Meanwhile, as Olive Snook played watch dog, Emerson and the Pie Maker were playing another game entirely. This game was called "Levels of Insanity." As they entered the facility which had been the site of Caroline Julius' murder, it soon became clear that lab coats did not necessarily equal to a level mind.

This became self-evident upon encountering one Dr. Alden Shaw. A seasoned and revered member of his field, Dr. Shaw was what some would call "a character." His methods had lost in their approval over the years, and it seemed his psyche had deflated in consequence.

When Ned and Emerson came upon him, Dr. Shaw was in the middle of a session. Waiting in the hall, the pair was left to interpret the sounds coming from the other room. Whatever the Good Doctor was doing appeared to involve metallic implements. Like clockwork, one would hear a nervous squeal every five seconds. A few minutes later, the doctor exited the room, stopping suddenly when he saw the pair was waiting for him. Though in his early fifties, Dr. Shaw's head was covered with a shock of white hair, giving him the cartoonish appearance of a mad scientist.

"Dr. Shaw?" Emerson spoke first. Before he could reply… "My name is Emerson Cod. I'm a private investigator." Dr. Shaw's gaze fell on Ned.

"Who's he?"

"Associate," Emerson quickly put in before moving along. "Dr. Shaw, we're here about Caroline Julius. You were her doctor for nearly fourteen years…" As Emerson spoke, the doctor followed his every word with a minimal nod of the head.

"Firebug," he then gave a full nod. "Tragic, what happened to her," his steady voice weakened there, only for a moment. "I tried to get her ready for the world. Really, the world wasn't ready for her. She was special."

"Doctor, do you have any reason to believe someone at this facility could have harmed her, intentionally or not?" The man paused to consider this, his gaze slipping away into some unknown location. Ned could tell his 'partner' would not show patience for this effort, and he braced himself for what might come. But then the doctor 'returned.'

"Talk to Harry." Those were the only words he would grant. A moment later he'd turned on his heel and returned to his patient. The squeals and the clanging resumed.

"Who's Harry?" Ned spoke the question which now fueled the snare on Emerson Cod's face.



"Harry" was Dr. Harrison York. A rotating physician, he would only be available the next day. So the pair retreated. Emerson returned to his office, while the Pie Maker finally regained the solace of his place of business. Before long the sweet scent of baking pies would present itself and, with it, first customers.

Still, he lacked one relief which would not rise out of the massive ovens. No, what he sought was several feet above his head, in the cozy apartment which no doubt seemed less so to its current occupant. Ned took hold of the receiver and dialed the number.

Four rings were then followed by a hesitant 'hello.' This gave him the indication of uncertainty in his Chuck – and this he wished more than anything to make vanish.

"Hey," he tried to send good cheers. 'How's it going up there?"

"Well I rearranged your books…" she started, then… "Twice." He frowned. He had been running from one place to another along with Olive and Emerson. To him the time had been quick to pass, dizzying.

"We're… I'll get you out of there as soon as I can."

"I know you will." He could hear the smile. This made him smile as well.

"Do you need anything?"

"Don't worry about me," she assured.

"I have to worry a little," he assured back.

After hanging up, Chuck's eyes veered to the books, which she had begun to remove from the shelves for a third time. She had first triaged by author, then genre. Now her plan was to crush away more time through a title organization.

As she'd removed the last of the books, however, there was a knock at the door. Her heart, in a moment of sudden trepidation and hope, got to her mind that the Pie Maker had decided to further extend his required amount of worrying by paying her a visit. Only, as she stood on her feet, the thought then occurred to her that the Pie Maker had a key and, therefore, no need to knock. Newly cautious, Chuck approached the door, making her steps light and silent. As she walked, she deeply hoped she would not be betrayed by a bark from Digby. With luck, he remained quiet.

Stalking up to peek into the peep hole, Chuck saw a man, short brown hair and a piercing glance. She did not know who he was, yet something inside her was certain she knew he was trouble. He gave her chills, and she retreated. After a moment, she would hear the faint but distinctive sound of footsteps retreating.

Her fears were becoming reality. Someone was on to her; someone had seen her and known her. That much she knew. She did not know yet how this man and the one Ned had told her of as having been wrongly served the previous day were the one and the same Edmund Eldridge. Therefore, neither knew how close he was… or that he was not alone in his endeavor.



The call had caught Emerson Cod by surprise. Much more, it had caught him in a dilemma. Dr. Harrison York, having received his message, had contacted the investigator. He agreed to meet with him. So the two were to meet at the Pie Hole.

When Emerson arrived, he found only Olive to back him up. Ned would not retreat from his kitchen and his pies, not after this day. Falling back on the reasoning that he had to keep his players in check, he sat in one of the booths, Olive at his side and Dr. York facing them.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

Unlike Dr. Shaw, Dr. York was very much what you would call "straight laced". Not one hair or ply out of place, he even moved with unerring precision. It was equally clear that the man would not act on anything unprepared. His every action was considered, calculated, and he always followed through. It soon became clear why Dr. Shaw had led the investigator to him. Dr. York had a secret. To his narrow existence, this secret was an anomaly. It appeared like a stain on him, one a skilled investigator, such as Emerson Cod, would be hard-pressed not to notice.

"How long were you involved with Caroline Julius? You know what I mean by involved," were Emerson's first words to the man after introductions had been made. The man did not flinch, but his eyes gave a flicker of the affect.

"Two years. It ended when she was released."

For Dr. York, it had been two years. For Caroline Julius, it had been much more. The doctor had been employed by the facility for three weeks when he had first crossed paths with a seventeen-year, fourteen-week, five-day, and eighteen-hour old Caroline. Governed by disorder, the girl was perplexed by the man who did not show one bit of displacement. In a way it could be said that Caroline Julius' interaction with the pristine Dr. Harrison York had given her the key to her freedom… however short it had been.

The doctor had taken notice of this. The flourishing of the once disarrayed girl had caused his undisturbed heart to be disturbed – with emotion. He came to anticipate his visits to the facility, his encounters with Patient Julius. This anticipation evolved two years ago, where the focused man and the patient he'd grown to love began their affair, putting their short and distant meetings to use.

"Who ended it?" Emerson asked.

"She did," the doctor spoke curtly.

"How'd that go?" York understood what the investigator implied. The very implication caused in his ordered mind something rare – shock.

"You think I did this?" He shook his head. "I could never…"

"What happened?" kindly Olive asked softly. The doctor responded, and this is what he told.

Upon learning of her imminent release, Caroline Julius was left with a number of questions. Never having had the need to provide for herself, this left her without answer. So she'd called on the one who had helped her so. Dr. York realized he had become an anchor, tied to the stern and keeping her grounded. If she remained attached, she could never achieve anything but the port she had been trapped in.

He loosened the ropes, allowing his dear sailboat to float of her own will. In doing so, he'd let her make her first decision as a free woman.

As his story ended, straight-laced Dr. Harrison York allowed himself a crooked moment – he smiled.

"Do you have any idea who might have done this?" Emerson asked, deciding for now to give the benefit of the doubt.

"An idea, perhaps. I can't prove it."

"You leave proof to us," Emerson leaned forward, the promise of a resolution emboldening him.



The bell's chime chimed at the home of Lily and Vivian Charles. The first of the mermaids, perched as she had done often in recent days on her bed, did not bother to move. The second, in forced solitude which left her wandering mind wondering, hesitated for a moment before walking to the door.

"Who is it?" she carefully asked.

"Detective Cole, Miss Charles," came a woman's voice. Hesitation was heightened by this unannounced visit. Finally, not wanting to worse matters, Vivian opened the door. The young woman standing before her gave Vivian the impression of a beast, anxious to pounce.

"Yes?"

"Can we talk?" Greta quizzed with a smile.



Once his shortened work day at the Pie Hole came to an end, Ned returned to his apartment, anxious to see Chuck. When he opened the door, he saw the stacks of books on the ground, abandoned.

"Chuck?" he called. After a moment, a faint response came.

"In here." He quickly identified 'here' to be the bedroom. There he found Chuck, looking shrunken as she sat on the bed. Draped over her lap lay Digby. The look on Chuck's face was none too reassuring.

"Are you alright?" Ned asked, worried.

"No," she shook her head.

She proceeded to tell him about her visitor. As she finished, Ned was already hurrying to get the phone. Moments later, he was speaking with Emerson. His news was just as bad, only combined did they reach catastrophe.

"A detective visited Lily and Vivian Charles tonight," he relayed the message he'd found waiting for him upon his return.

"They really are on to her… aren't they?" Ned spoke in shock, blanching when he spotted Chuck standing near.

"We need to plug this leak, and fast." Emerson remained unaware of the small panic attack on the other end.

"What do you need me to do?" Ned offered instantly.

"What do you think?"

After having instructed the Pie Maker, Emerson hung up. He spent the evening pondering the situation. The matter remained on his mind until the next morning. The hypothesis which came of this was one he kept to himself, not wanting to tip his hand until he knew more.

In order to 'know more,' he followed a hunch which led him to the office of his rival – Constance Gold.

The hall which led to the office was lined with framed clippings, chronicling the varied successes of Constance Gold's career. The further he went, the more it seemed the hall grew smaller. As he reached the door, he knocked, hardly bothering to wait for the invitation before entering.

Constance sat, undisturbed by the sudden appearance of the towering man. Instead, she looked pleased.

"Mr. Cod… Well, my day just got better. What can I do for you?" she stood and walked around her desk.

"Do you work alone, Miss Gold?"

"I have contacts," she shrugged innocently. "I'm sure you do too."

"My 'contacts' aren't in the habit of harassing people." Constance Gold showed shock – and Emerson Cod wasn't certain it wasn't real… but he wasn't sure it was real either.

"What exactly gave you the idea I did anything of the sort?" she demanded.

"Nothing that concerns you. I just came to… suppose you might drop these tactics… you may or may not be employing. Do we understand each other?" he held out his hand.

"I can play ball… I haven't done a thing, but I'll humor you," she responded, strong as she shook his hand.

"Well alright then." Without another word, he turned and left.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Terribly terribly sorry I haven't put up the end of this story for over a year, but then there was school, and I'd just moved... anyhoo, it got away from me. I actually have a good chunk of a third story in this series written up, and today somehow nostalgia grabbed me and wouldn't let go, so I decided I needed to get back into it somehow. No idea how long it'll be before the third story starts going up 'cause, seeing as my time might be spotty I wouldn't want to leave anyone hanging, so I'd wait until it was all done and written before I put up anything, but anyway the first step in all this was to finish putting this one up... Again, sorry for the delay! I hope you guys are still out there!

* * *

**CHAPTER 14**

Constance Gold walked around her desk, flipping a switch to reveal a set of security monitors embedded within her desk. Finding her visitor truly departed, she sat back with a sigh.

"What did you do?" she asked aloud.

"Our jobs," Greta replied.

A side door opened, revealing Greta Cole. Another door, this one to a tall cabinet, opened and showed Edmund Eldridge squeezed between a long jacket and a selection of costumes. Greta slithered toward one of the visitor chairs, while Edmund twisted about to work out the kinks.

"We had a deal. I agreed to work with you under these conditions. If you can't respect them…"

"It's not like we got anywhere," Edmund landed heavily into his own chair. Greta frowned.

"Be quiet," she groaned. Constance sighed, looking out the window as she anticipated another argument.

She had weighed her options in allying herself to the detective and the reporter. As much as she could have her contacts, where she was truthful the fact was Constance Gold preferred to work alone. This had been the way she worked, and that way worked for her.

She had exited a questionable marriage, still strong and determined to turn her life around. She did just that. She opened her business and began building on the name which was one of the last remnants of her old discarded life. She had found she preferred to rely on herself after having been betrayed one time too many. Her motto may have been 'the Gold way', but her mantra was 'the only one who cannot betray you is you.' It had gotten her to where she needed to be for a good time.

And yet she'd gone and put it on the line in agreeing to partner with these two. The culprit in this matter was curiosity.

She recalled the night she'd first heard of the case. The body of one Charlotte Charles had been fished out of the water in which she had been disposed of. She also recalled being called on the case. But seeing in it no true challenge, she had left it to others.

This other became Emerson Cod. And over days that passed, she found that the weakling little fish she had thrown back in the water was growing, sinking its teeth left and right. She had made a mistake. Constance Gold did not like to make mistakes.

Now it appeared she was being given a second chance – a chance to cast her net on the flounder that got away. The thought that the Lonely Tourist may have in fact been 'live and kicking' offered so many new opportunities, the petite investigator salivated at the very thought. However, being aware there were two others seeking to make the catch as well, it was clear to her that the only option was to keep them within her grasp. Like Emerson Cod, she adhered to the policy of keeping one's players in check.

x

The Pie Maker wished for these runs to cease. In recent days every one of them – except for Chuck – had made the trip into Coeur d'Coeurs, most of them on repeated occasions. In this moment it was as though he knew the road better than the kitchen where he baked his pies on a daily basis. Still, he meant what he'd said when he'd said he would do whatever it took to rectify this situation with Chuck.

Knowing how the aunts had been on his last visit, he feared what he would find. He had not imagined somehow that the detective's visit, while it confused Vivian, would give Lily strength and comfort. He soon understood that having someone believe what she believed could only give her weakened fingers a renewed fortitude in retaining her hope.

This renewal also brought out Lily's momentarily muted moods. Seeing the Pie Maker, once again in their home, she muttered something under her breath as she made herself a drink. She remained there as Ned and Vivian sat.

"What happened last night?" he asked. Vivian proceeded to narrate the events of the previous night.

Cautious Vivian had allowed the Detective into the house, sitting with her much as she now did with the Pie Maker. For a moment, neither woman spoke. The longer this silence lasted, the smaller Vivian felt in front of Greta Cole. Seeking a release, she offered Greta a cup pie, left behind by the Pie Maker who had not touched it the day before.

Greta showed to be very interested in the fact that its maker would go to such distances to deliver the honey-crusted treat. Vivian revealed how the Pie Holers were recurring visitors of the Darling Mermaids.

Eventually, the conversation had moved on to the passed on niece, Charlotte Charles. Greta claimed herself as having been on the case, and explained she wished to ensure the family left behind was properly coping. Partially reassured, Vivian had let go of her apprehension. She told the Detective how much their lives had yet to recover, how much they still felt the void left by Charlotte's absence. She spoke of their pain, which differed but still remained entwined.

"What else did she ask?" Ned prodded gently, knowing a more forceful approach might scare away the careful one.

"What's it to you?" Lily cut in. Ned did not turn to face her.

"Concerned, that's all," he managed, looking back to Vivian after a moment.

"You are a good friend to Charlotte. She's lucky to have you," she spoke with gratitude.

"Thank you," he took the compliment, processing it with a nervous smile and rising warmth to his face. "I feel lucky too…" his heart gave a yearning tug. After a moment, he willed himself to return to the task at hand. "So… did the Detective ask anything else?" Vivian hesitated for a moment, eyes darting to her sister who was not aware of this answer.

"She… she asked to see Charlotte's room," she mumbled.

"Vivian…" Lily exclaimed.

"Did you show it to her?" Ned went on. Again, Vivian looked to her sister. The answer did not need voice.

"You let her in there…" Lily spoke, not as a question but an expression of disbelief.

"She looked. She didn't touch anything. I wouldn't let her," she nodded firmly.

"What happened after that?" Ned asked.

"She thanked me, and she left." There was relief in her voice, her face. Her tale was told. It was done.

TO BE CONTINUED


End file.
